


Somewhere to heal

by 99Blackpanther99



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, Dom Harry Potter, M/M, Mental Health Issues, OOC Severus Snape, Romance, Slow Burn, Sub Severus Snape, Tags will be updated, semi-public submission
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 07:54:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27200110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/99Blackpanther99/pseuds/99Blackpanther99
Summary: Harry returns to Hogwarts after six years, looking for somewhere to heal. Nothing is as he expected, and the relationships and the world around him have changed. He feels lost and abandoned, which is ironic in consideration of his own behaviour. He doesn't know if he can cope with the year ahead, but maybe there will be someone who can help him heal eventually. (Repost of chapter one and now continuing the story)This will eventually be a dom harry/sub severus work, so be warned!Please do not repost to another site. I do not own the characters..they belong to JK Rowling.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Severus Snape, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 61
Kudos: 108





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all. It has been so long since I posted anything and I am sorry about that. I posted the first chapter of this a couple of years ago but decided to make a few changes and start fresh. I am posting two chapters as a sorry!. I have really missed you all and hope that you will say hi.

Harry failed to stifle another yawn as he was handed yet another piece of parchment. He placed his hand over his mouth, blushing slightly, hoping that Minerva would not take it as an insult. She merely chuckled, and he looked up, smiling self-depreciatingly. “Sorry, I’m a little jetlagged”.

The Headmistress nodded, her lips quirking again at the corners, “Understandable”, she returned, putting him at ease, “though I am surprised you chose to fly?”, she queried.

He looked at her for a moment, giving him time to frame his words, “I think I needed the time to sort things out in my head. I might not have completely given up on magic, but living day to day with magic is no longer second nature. It gave me a chance to really feel like I was leaving Australia and the muggle world behind. I am glad that I am back, but it’s not easy to completely give up a life I’ve had for six years”.

She nodded again in understanding, “I am glad you have decided to come home, Harry”, she said gently, “It’ll take some time but things will work out in the end”.

Harry contemplated that for a moment, “Thank you for allowing me to come to teach here. You’re not just giving me a job, but a home and somewhere I can feel safe. The papers are going to go crazy when they realise I am home”, he sighed, dreading the prospect.

Minerva chortled, “Yes, six years of speculation and they still haven’t died down. How did you know?”.

“The only person I kept in touch with was Luna Lovegood. Do you remember her?”, he asked.

“Vividly”, Minerva replied, her eyes widening as a smirk graced her features.

Harry laughed gently at that, “I’ve never been able to figure out how, but she knew where I was, and sent me an owl. She would message me about once a month with updates, and I usually managed a pathetic reply about twice a year”. He felt a little shame at that, and he abruptly changed topic, “It was she who mentioned that the position was available, and I decided it was the right time to come home”.

“I know that it will be difficult with Ron and Hermione working here, but you were always so close, I am sure it will not take long before you are as thick as thieves again”, she stated, gazing at him with knowing eyes.

Harry looked away, not sure that would be the case. He had abandoned them without warning, and for six years had made no attempt to contact them. They wouldn’t have known if he was even alive. He was not sure if he would be able to forgive one of them if they had done that, so he was not setting himself to believe they would forgive him. When he had first contacted Minerva and she had warned him that they both worked here, he had immediately said he had changed his mind. But she had continued to contact him for nearly three weeks, and when she had caught him one morning when he was feeling particularly desolate, he had had impulsively agreed. So many times he had nearly cancelled, but his Gryffindor side was reasserting itself, and he did not want to let her down so close to the start of term. He had only agreed to a one year contract. He could bear this for one year if it didn’t work out, and it gave him the space and security he was so desperately seeking.

Eventually, all the paperwork was signed and Minerva invited him to follow her to the teacher’s lounge. It was three days before the students would return, but the Professors always returned early to set up their lesson plans. He kept his eyes averted from the picture of the late headmaster, not yet willing to deal with that heartache, and followed her silently through the castle. Neither spoke, and he guessed she was giving him time to sort himself before meeting the people he had abandoned so easily. But the longer the silence went on, the more nervous he become; the bile in his stomach rising up to meet his throat. He glanced down at his hands, noticing they were shaking, and he had to consciously will them into submission.

“Come, Mr Potter, the other Professors will be dying to see you”, she told him jovially, oblivious to his struggles, or at least attempting not to humiliate him by drawing attention to it. At that, she opened the doors, and stepped in ahead of him. “Good evening all”, she pronounced, “Mr Potter has arrived”.

There was a collective breath as he stepped into the room, with him gamely attempting to keep his head up and appear unruffled. The first person he spotted was Hermione, her emotionless face unable to hide the hurt her eyes were portraying. The guilt was threatening to overwhelm him, and he had to force himself to swallow, before smiling tentatively at her. She regarded him for a moment, nodded gently before turning away, her gaze landing on her husband. Before he had a chance to really look at Ron, past his still garishly bright red hair, his view was obscured by the hulking presence of Hagrid, who greeted him warmly, pumping his hand and exclaiming how much he had been missed whilst he was gone, as if he had merely been travelling, and had not abandoned them all for six years without so much as a word.

For the next twenty minutes he was assaulted by various Professors, but he did not fail to note that neither Ron, Hermione, nor Snape came anywhere near him. He didn’t for a moment expect Snape to greet him, but the man hadn’t even looked at him, at least in the small glances he’d caught of him, sitting away by himself at the back of the room. He sighed with irritation. He had hoped that the Potion’s Professor would at least try to be civil with him now that he was also a Professor, but that clearly was not going to be the case. He shrugged to himself, he would not make it awkward on the man, but he wasn’t going to go out of his way to be nice, he had enough things to deal with. 

He didn’t even have time to go over and attempt to greet his once best friends because soon Minerva was adamant that he be shown his quarters, and he was whisked along without reprieve to his new home for the next year. It wasn’t exactly warmly furnished, but it was spacious and he was provided with a budget in which to make some purchases. He could already picture in his head the way he wanted his living room to look, and he could only hope that he would have someone who wanted to spend time with him in it.

“You have missed dinner Harry, I am afraid, but the house elves are happy to provide food at any time”. Minerva studied him gently, “It can be very lonely until you find your feet, but many of the Professors spend their evenings in the communal lounge”, she paused, “You might find it a good place to mend fences”, she stated gently, grasping his hand softly. She frowned slightly, “You unfortunately have a history with Severus, but I should warn you that he is not the same man that you knew, and I would be”, again she paused as if not sure how to phrase it, “careful of your approach to him if you do wish to make amends with old acquaintances”. Harry gazed at her in confusion, but she merely smiled, and then pulled back, brusquely announcing that she was leaving, and swept from his room. Harry pondered over her statement, but it made little sense, so he eventually shrugged, and sat down for some food.

Afterwards, he wandered around his new home for a while, but there was little to be done this evening. The house elves had unpacked for him, and he could not order anything to begin decorating until he ventured into Hogsmeade at the weekend to at least collect some brochures, it wasn’t like Hogwarts had the internet. He could feel his mood drop as home sickness set in, and he decided that he needed to at least be around people, whether they spoke to him or not. He headed back towards the lounge, mulling the entire time over what he might say to his former best friends.

When he entered, it was quieter than it had been earlier in the evening. Ron and Hermione were huddled together, pouring over some books. Two other Professors were playing chess in the corner, and he was surprised that Snape was still there. The man had his nose in a book, on the couch closest to him, but he was surprised by how relaxed he seemed. The entire room had a buoyant camaraderie feel to it, which surprised him.

“Evening”, he said softly, and he immediately saw his three old acquaintances tense. The two Professors in the corner, whom he didn’t know beyond basic introductions, seemingly failed to notice the rush of ice that swept over the room, and merely waved or nodded at him in greeting, their friendly smiles appropriate and welcoming.

Ron was the first to acknowledge him, “Evening”, he said gruffly, and again Hermione nodded at him without emotion. Snape peered up at him curiously, and then raised his eyebrow in expectation, failing to return his greeting. Harry rolled his eyes internally, but did not react. Instead choosing to sit down on the same couch as him. The heavy, silent atmosphere remained in the room, and he felt rather than saw the Potion’s Master tense, even though you could fit two other people between them. He could feel his annoyance beginning to rise; the man was being ridiculous.

Deciding to try to cut through the atmosphere, and shockingly realising that he would rather try for small talk with Snape than with his two former best friends, he turned to face him, “How have you been Professor?”, he asked, his tone neutral.

The elder man regarded him momentarily, “As well as can be expected”, he returned guardedly, ever the spy. Harry waited for a moment to see whether he would return the sentiment, and studied him surreptitiously. Snape looked surprisingly younger than he had the last time he had seen him six years ago. The stress lines were smoothed away, and whilst he couldn’t be said to have a healthy glow, he was no longer yellow, merely a slightly intriguing white. His teeth and hair were clean, and whilst he could certainly never be mistaken for a model, even Harry could appreciate that if he didn’t know him, he might have tried to pick him up in a bar for a one night stand.

When the silence began to fill the room awkwardly again, he nodded towards the book, “What are you reading, Sir?”.

That seemed to have thrown the other man off for some reason and he tensed again, his eyes flashing with something Harry couldn’t name. “A book”, he replied eventually, his tone slightly condescending.

Harry could feel his hackles rising already, the other man really was still the nastiest piece of work. He might have changed physically, but even from their short interaction he could see he was still as haughty as he was before. “I can see that”, he snapped, unable to hold back the retort. His emotions were already threatening to overwhelm him, and he didn’t have the strength to bury his irritation.

“Severus”, a voice called immediately, and they both turned to see Ron scowling slightly, “Come up here, you’ve been reading enough tonight, and I need your opinion on whether you think my third year class can manage this type of spell”. Harry was shocked at the evident intimacy between them, and the way that Ron seemed to almost be issuing an order beneath the obvious irritation. He was even more flabbergasted when Snape merely huffed as if put upon and then closed his book and walked up to the table. He watched as Ron placed his hand on Snape’s back as if protectively pulling him in close, before they all sat down at the table. Hermione was facing him, and she leaned in to whisper to him, before placing her hand on top of his, and then he saw her snort with amusement at whatever he replied. Watching the display it was evident that whatever relationship they had was dramatically different to what it once had been. He could never have imagined Ron willingly touching Snape. His once best friend had despised him more than anyone. Even more shocking was the way that Snape did not flinch away, nor did he seem even perturbed by the contact. Snape had been beyond guarded when he knew him, and he wondered how he could have transformed into allowing such easy intimacy, even in six years. Harry picked up a book on pretence, but he watched their interaction with curiosity, his eyes barely even skimming the words. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the seamless way they interacted was extraordinary. There was a an evident affectionate camaraderie between them that made his insides curl. He realised in that moment that he was jealous. Their interactions; head bent close, talking intently, causal touches that meant nothing and everything, the way they looked like they were scheming; it was the same way that he had been with them during school. It felt like a perverse parody to the relationship he’d once had with them.

After half an hour he couldn’t bear it anymore, and he left without a word. None of them attempted to chat with him, and he was feeling awful. He wanted to run away, just take off again and never return, but he knew that was what had pushed him into this mess in the first place. Ever since the night he had defeated Voldemort he coped by merely running away whenever things became tough. He was not oblivious to the fact that whilst he had told Minerva he was finally ready to come home, he knew deep down that he was actually running away again; running from the pain and the heartache and the responsibilities that he could no longer manage. Just watching them tonight he didn’t know if he had the strength to cope with everything. With facing everyone he had abandoned, realising everything he had truly lost, and finally facing the reality of the war. He knew who had died but it had been too surreal. He had mourned in his own way, but from a distance, and it made it less real, less clawing. He had thrown himself into new life after new life, forever avoiding the reality of being who he was, in so many ways. He knew he was a coward, and even now he realised that he was probably going to take the cowards way out. He wouldn’t run, but he wouldn’t put himself out there. He’d keep himself hidden and guarded and work out the year. It would give him time to feel safe and to sort through some of the pain, but he knew he’d probably avoid most of that as well. He could feel the self-loathing rising up again, and he stomped it down into that little chasm of himself that he hid away, even from himself. Instead, he sneered internally, and with a self-loathing that bordered on anger, he stormed back to his quarters.


	2. Chapter 2

He was awake well before dawn. He couldn’t remember the last time he had slept the night through, but he was used to existing on mere hours. He needed a little air, and to see the castle before the children swarmed back in. The air was biting this early in the morning, so he wrapped himself up and silently walked out into the morning light. The grass was still a little damp and he savoured the crisp smell that surrounded him. He felt calm for the first time in, well, as long as he could remember.

Wandering around the lake, he thought back to himself as a young boy, eager to enjoy the magical world. He’d been so naïve back then, so full of hope; but he’d also known real happiness. He pictured himself laughing with his friends as they studied out on the grass, and he felt a longing for them that he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years.

He heard a noise behind him, and swung round in surprise, his wand out before he had even realised what he was doing. Evidently his defensive skills were still on point. “Professor Snape?”, he questioned, wondering what the other man was doing here; he hadn’t expected anyone else to be out this early in the morning.

The other man came to a standstill, eyeing his wand warily, “Mr Potter”, he returned eventually, his tone surprisingly neutral.

“Were you following me?”, he asked. He didn’t exactly trust Snape, and it wouldn’t have surprised him if he was attempting to catch him out, as he had done when they were children; stalking behind them in the corridors to take points. Now, as an adult, he contemplated how bitter the man must have been to enjoy torturing youths, and the level of glee he had experienced whenever they failed.

He saw the Potions Master’s nostrils flare at the accusation, “Hardly”, he snapped, eyeing him coldly, “I have been informing you since you were eleven years old that the world does not revolve around you”. He didn’t wait for Harry to retort, instead he strode past him with the same terrifying exuberance he remembered from his childhood.

He felt a tinge of annoyance at the other man’s behaviour, but he decided to brush it aside. He couldn’t afford to let his emotions get carried away, as he knew how easy it was for his anger to give way to despair. Instead he spent some time reliving his happier years. He used some wandless magic to cast lightened shadows of his memories. It was a spell he had learned in America. It allowed him, on the spot where a memory took place, to watch what could only be described as shadow play, though with light instead of shadow. He smiled to himself as he watched the younger version of himself playfighting with Ron, whilst Hermione stood with her hand on her hip, evidently watching them disapprovingly. He yearned for that simpler time and wished he had cherished it more.

He watched the show for a while longer and then stood, closing his eyes and breathing in the air; the cold snapping at his nose and almost choking him with its freshness. He settled himself, and then with a strength of resolution he hadn't been aware he had, he decided to make the most of the day. Ultimately, he spent most of it trying to get to know some of the other Professor’s and lesson planning. It had left him with a sense of achievement, and he felt a little mroe positive about his life. Many of the Professors were genuinely friendly and had welcomed him in a way that he hadn't been expecting. Some were even his age; a new breed from the dusty old Professors he remembered from his own schooling. He could see himself socialising with a few of them in the future. Whilst he may heve been sticking to his commitment that he wouldn’t let anyone under his shields, that didn’t mean he couldn’t have some light-hearted fun. He also didn’t think any of the other Professors were gay, and that gave him a freedom simply to be himself without worrying about more carnal pursuits.

As the early evening descended on him, he pushed his books away and stretched, working out the kinks from his back. He would have to be more aware of his posture and the time spent bent over the books; he didn't fancy adding back troubles to his list of grievances. He left the library that he has spent a good part of the day in. It was different from his youth; there was no librarian scolding him for making too much noise and it felt strange to have so much freedom. He had free reign to pursue the restricted section, though he hadn't been able to completley step out of the sense that he was breaking the rules, and for the first few hours he felt as if he was still sneaking around, terrified of being caught. He strolled the corridors towards the Great Hall, acknowledging the stirrings of hunger from his stomach, when he heard his name being called from behind. He turned, planting a friendly smile on his face, but was surprised when there was no-one behind him. He laughed to himself; he must have been more tired than he thought. He turned back, but he had made it no more than a few metres when he heard it again. He whipped round, holding his wand aloft in front of him.

“Who’s there?”. The silence which answered him made his insides curl; he had been sure he had heard his name being called. He cast a few detection spells but found nothing. Deciding, that he was imagining things, he turned again towards the Great Hall. He felt himself hurrying, however, and he did not put his wand away until he had reached it. His stomach was still in his throat as he pushed the doors open.

This was the first evening he would dine with the other Professor’s. Many of the Professors called to him in greeting and he found himself relaxing; they had accepted him easily, making him feel part of the group and he was grateful to them that they did not judge him for his past. There was no assigned seating as yet, and deciding he was not yet ready to face his old friends, he sat himself at the other end of the hall beside the Herbology Professor. Professor Victoria Crane was a formidable looking woman, with a stare that could curdle milk, but Harry had found her warm and witty, and he had liked her immediately.

“You looked tired”, she commented without preamble as he took his seat. He laughed, liking her straightforwardness immensely. They conversed for a brief time and then she left him to begin his meal. He glanced up towards the ceiling, and he found himself reminiscing about the first time he had sat under it as an eleven year old. The world had seemed big and full of promise, and he had felt a sense of freedom. He didn’t know whether he felt free or not being back, but he knew he felt safe, and that was something he had struggled to find since the war. He wondered, however, if he would ever find a sense of joy that his childhood self had found so easily, despite the war and the Dark Lord.

“Have you met Professor Carrington yet?”, Victoria asked him quietly, pulling him from his reverie? He looked up and she nodded towards the man now leaving the great hall.

He gazed at the man as he exited the room, “I’ve met him briefly, but I’ve not really had a chance to chat to him. Am I right in thinking he is a Clazon?”, he asked. Harry had noted the colour of his eyes when they had spoken; there weren’t many species that had violet irises.

She nodded, “The headmistress had to fight for his appointment with the board of governors. A few parents actually pulled their children from school when he was first appointed, but he is an outstanding Professor and there have been no complaints since he began here three years ago”. Harry nodded; it wasn’t surprising that there had been some difficulties with appointing him. Clazon’s were considered by the wizarding world as dark creatures, though that was a misconception. However, most now shunned wizarding society due to prejudice and disagreement on both sides. There were thriving Clazon communities, however, they barely tolerated non Clazons and it was almost unheard of for them to mate outside their own race. The disagreements were as old as the records which held them. Decimated by war, the Clazon’s had sought to increase their number through dark magic. Most historical records had been lost eons ago, and the truth had been twisted over time, but what was generally known was that in aiming to bolster their lineage, they had attempted to create new Clazon’s through the use of dark magic. It was believed that this had been achieved through “turning” volunteers. Unfortunately, the results were far from what they had envisioned. This new breed, having being created through dark magic, found themselves drawn to it. They Clazons had effecively created a darker and more powerful of themselves. This new breed could not tolerate sunlight, required blood to survive, and could turn others through ritualistic blood drinking. They killed and turned without regard for life. Clazon’s were horrified by what they had created and attempted to eradicate them, but their use of dark magic gave them an advantage and they had survived. This new breed, known as "Vampires", had been shunned by all and lived on the edges of society. Their numbers had remained small due to being hunted by both Clazons and the wizarding world. Unlike vampires, Clazon’s had no issue with sunlight, had no specific desire for dark magic and could use sex to survive, feeding on the magic that it created. Whilst they had once drank blood to survice, this was no longer a practice they engaged in, however, it didn’t stop the wizarding world fearing them and failing to separate them from their darker creations. Hatred on both sides meant they rarely mixed and this served only to perpetuate the fears.

“I am surprised he chose to work in a wizarding school rather than a Clazon school”, Harry commented.

“He seems to be on a bit of a mission to unite us and the Clazons, but he’s got his work cut out for him. The Clazons seem to be worse than us, and have actively rejected any attempts at creating treaties”, she told him, frowning into her steak. “It’s a shame really, he’s such a lovely man”. Harry observed her shrewdly but decided not to comment. He detected a hint of warmth towards the man, but he did not yet know Victoria well enough to comment on it. He wondered if it was even a possibility between them, considering how frowned upon it was to mate between the species.

They conversed for a while longer, and Harry used the opportunity to glance at his old friends, under the pretence of turning to talk to her. Hermione and Ron were sandwiched between the Headmistress and Snape. It was still odd to see them willingly sitting together and the ease at which they conversed. He remembered Snape always being so distant and cold, even with the other Professors. He couldn’t remember him often conversing during meals, but now he seemed to be engaged in a fervent discussion with the new History of magic Professor. He watched as Hermione poured him some wine and he turned to her briefly before picking up the glass and resuming his discussion.

Deciding to take a chance, he adopted an air of offhand curiosity as he turned again to Victoria, "Do you know Professor Snape well?", he asked. 

She nodded, "I see him quite a lot actually. I'm friendly with Hermione and the three of them are rarely seperated".

He swallowed, "I'm surprised", he commented. He desperately hoped it didn't seem like he was fishing for information.

"I think we all were to be honest", she laughed, though kept her voice low, "No-one had even seen him for four years and then suddenly the three of them started together two years ago and they are thick as thieves. He's definitely not what I remember from school", she finished, widening her eyes in pretend fear and chuckling.

The interaction had only served to increase his curiosity, but he held back from interrogating her any further. He certainly didn't want this getting back to Hermione. Where had Snape been for four years? Maybe they had all worked together after the war? It was frustrating to have some many questions. He had to admit that the casual acceptance that they were inseperable had made his stomach churn with pain. He was hurting and jealous. He wanted his friends back, and Snape seemed to be a barrier that would only make it that much harder.

That evening, he headed back towards the staff room. He’d sought out Minerva earlier in the day to ask whether he could potentially incorporate some of the other classes into his teaching, feeling like the disparity between the lessons put everyone at a disadvantage. She had been eager to see what he could devise. Whilst this would evidently improve the student’s development, he also had a slightly more selfish reason. It would give him a valid reason to talk to his old friends and would provide him with a a structured way of attempting to develop some relationship with them. He’d decided to bite the bullet and give them a bit of a heads up this evening that he would be trying to meet with them. In reality, he just wanted any excuse to try to talk to them; he really did miss them.

On entering the staff room, he was momentarily surprised that Snape was the only occupant. The staff room was warm, lit by a large fire at the other end of the room and it would have seemed a lovely place to relax if it wasn't for the presence of the Potion's Master. “Professor”, he acknowledged, nodding his head and taking a seat. The other man gazed at him briefly, nodded tightly and then returned to perusing his book. Harry watched him for a moment and noticed that his body was stiff and poised, as if he was ready to flee at any moment. Harry braced himself but pushed on, finding his Gryffindor bravery from somewhere inside of him.

“May I speak to you about something?”, he asked, attempting to keep his tone neutral and confident. Snape looked up and for a moment there was a look of disgust on his face, but it was quickly replaced by neutrality. He nodded again but did not reply. “I have been looking at the syllabus for this year and I would like to make some changes. There are some key aspects of defence which have been missing and which I think is really important. I have spoken to the headmistress and she agrees. I would like to incorporate new aspects from potions, transfiguration, charms and runes into my classes. I haven’t finished writing all the parts I want, but I was wondering if you would be willing to look over my lesson plans for those that involve potions?”.

He had barely finished speaking when Snape cut in. “Getting others to do your work for you, Potter. Well there is a surprise”, he snapped in a mocking tone, his eyes burning into him.

Harry glared, “You know that isn’t true”.

Snape narrowed his eyes, “Why would I believe that to be true? In school, you relied on your friends to pull you through and then after the war you simply ran away, leaving others to deal with your responsibilities”, he raged.

Harry bristled, becoming defensive, “I did my part Snape. I killed Voldemort. Wasn’t that enough?”.

The other man rolled his eyes, “Of course; it was you alone”, he sneered. “The great Harry Potter”. He stood, the anger seeping out of him, “You have no idea the mess you left behind. You had a duty to see things through. Why, therefore, should I waste my time helping you when you will no doubt leave in the middle and others will be left to pick up the pieces”, he paused and glared at him, “I rarely have cause to doubt the headmistress, however, I believe her employment of you is one of the worst decisions she has ever made.”

At that, the Professor turned and left. His robes billowing behind him in a way that was familiar. Harry sat numb. The pure vitriol in Snape’s redress had frozen him in place.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was so lovely that people took time to comment. I really loved reading them. Thank you all x
> 
> I will not normally update so quickly, but I had a day off today and felt inspired to write x

He slept fitfully that night, tossing and turning, waking often with an overwhelming sense of dread in the pit of his stomach. The fight with Snape was reverberating in his mind and it made settling to sleep almost impossible. Even when he did manage to catch snippets of unconsciousness, the nightmares that so often plagued him pulled him back into the world of the living, sweating and shaking; the anxiety worse than before. On waking for the third time in one night, he gave up. He couldn’t see her face again; the guilt when she appeared in his dreams made it difficult to will himself through the next day. Thankfully, the nights that she appeared to him were minimal after so many years. But the confrontation with Snape had made him stressed, and those were the nights she haunted him.

He pulled himself up from the bed with a tired sigh and put the kettle on. Sitting on the couch, he nursed the mug as he stared out into the empty space of his living room. He enjoyed the mild burn on his palms from the heat of the mug, and it helped to pull him back into the present, away from her eyes and the guilt that followed him. He hadn’t anticipated just how painful it was to return; just how many memories would come crashing back into his awareness. Right now, sitting alone and tired, the school was too suffocating, too full of old ghosts, and he felt like the walls were holding him in like a coffin. He’d thought it might have been ok, but Snape had poked at the raw wound inside him. He was regretting returning. He’d left Australia because things were becoming too real and he wasn’t ready yet. He needed to confront his past before he could possibly consider a future. He’d hoped that Hogwarts would have been the place to provide him with the closure and the fresh start that he needed. He’d wanted to build bridges with those he’d once considered family. He knew he’d run and left them all with the aftermath but he’d hoped they would understand; even give him a chance to explain, but they looked at him as if he had betrayed them.

He couldn’t really make sense of why Snape in particular was so angry with him. True, they had never exactly been friends, but during those last few months before the war they seemed to have developed a mutual sort of respect. Snape had put aside everything to train him and had been forced to hide in the castle when his loyalty to Harry and Dumbledore had been revealed. The old headmaster had died just before the final battle, taken eventually by the poison of the horcrux. Snape had been forced to re-establish the wards on the castle when Albus had weakened, and his resistance to allowing the death eaters into the castle had been his undoing. They’d worked together to make Harry ready for the battle and he’d ultimately done what they had asked of him. He could understand Ron and Hermione being angry with him; he’d abandoned them completely, but why Snape? They had no friendship and no real relationship that would give meaning to his tirade.

He was annoyed now. Why should someone like Snape, with his own shameful past, be allowed to have such an impact on his life? He would always be grateful to the man. He’d saved him more times than he could count, and he’d put his life on the line to keep them all safe. He’d made amends for the wrongs, and no-one had ultimately done more for the side of the light than Snape, and that made him a hero in Harry’s eyes. But that didn’t give him the right to dictate Harry’s life. He’d died for them, wasn’t that enough?

He glanced around his quarters and decided that one of his top priorities was to give it some sort of character. He needed to make it his safe haven, somewhere warm and comforting that he would enjoy coming home to. He pushed himself up off the couch, determined to try again today. He spent the morning going through his mantra. “I am ok. I am strong. I can face the world”. His Mantra helped him to find some semblance of stability and control, and by the time he left for breakfast he was determined that he wasn’t going to let the other man bring him down. He felt more able to face everything. He’d even had the strength to send an owl to Luna, asking if they could meet. He wanted to join the world again and she seemed like the best place to start.

He was early to breakfast and he didn’t stay long, so he had the pleasure of avoiding the three people who occupied his thoughts once again. The warm acceptance from the other Professors, and their obvious avoidance of questioning him about the war, made him feel safer and lighter. They were allowing him to just exist, without pressure and without all the ‘saviour’ ridiculousness. He had a feeling that Minerva had something to do with that, and he suspected that he would once more be the centre of attention once the students returned.

The students were due back in a few days, and he needed to organise his lesson plans. He would face Snape and make him help him. They were both supposed to be professionals. They could put their grievances aside for the sake of their students. He collected his lesson plans and headed towards the Potion’s classroom during mid-morning. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to the meeting with Snape, but he wouldn’t let the man’s venom towards him distract him from being the type of Professor he wanted to be.

He took a breath before knocking on the heavy wooden door of the Potion’s classroom. The door was worn by age and he wondered how many nervous hands had knocked on the door, terrified of what lay within. For a moment it was as if he was a young schoolboy awaiting detention with the ominous bat of the dungeons. He had to physically remind himself he was an adult and a Professor of this school. He pushed himself up taller, no longer willing to be cowed by the man who didn’t have the decency to treat him as if he was anything but an annoying brat. It was a long time since he’d been treated as such. The past few days had made him more vulnerable, but he was used to being respected and he would not allow Snape to make him doubt himself any further.

“Come”, the voice called from within, and he pushed open the door with a new sense of resolve. Snape looked up, a small smile on his face, which caught him by surprise. For a moment the man exuded a warm friendliness. It stopped him in his tracks, and he found his voice had abandoned him. Evidently, however, the smile was not for him, as it fell away when their eyes met, to be replaced by a Neutral mask.

“Professor Potter”, Snape intoned, his face unreadable. Before Harry had the chance to speak, the Potions Master continued, “I would like to apologise for my words yesterday. I recognise that you are attempting to improve a rather lacklustre defence curriculum and you did not deserve my vitriol”.

It was a good ten seconds before Harry found he had the ability to speak again. This had not been what he had expected, and he was unprepared. “Thank you”, he returned uselessly, his voice a little higher than he had hoped for.

The other man sighed, “I have no desire to make your life here difficult. I am willing to look over your lesson plans”. He was blunt in his approach, but he seemed genuine and that put him a little more at ease. He motioned for Harry to sit, and his eyes followed him as he crossed the room and sat himself on a chair close to the Professor’s desk. Snape did not give him any time to speak before continuing in the same emotionless tone of voice. Despite his obvious attempt to make peace, the tone gave the message that Harry was nothing to him more than a Professional annoyance.

“You mentioned that you also wished to incorporate aspects from other classes?”, Snape queried, gazing at him in a way that made him slightly uncomfortable. It was too intense, as if he was attempting to read his mind, though there was no indication that he had violated him in that way.

Harry nodded, gazing right back at the elder man, refusing to be made to feel like he was less than him. “Yes, I want to be able to bring different branches of magic together. I want to help the students to realise how much more they can accomplish when they combine their arsenal”. He felt his enthusiasm increasing as he talked, “I really want them to see how much stronger they can be when they work spells, potions and charms together”.

“Admirable”, the other man stated offhandedly, leafing through the pages Harry had laid in front of him. It was such a small word, but the genuine way the other man had praised him made his insides curl. “I do not have time to give this proper attention at the moment, but I will study your plans later today and provide you with some feedback. Is that acceptable?”, he asked him, glancing up and gazing at with that same level of intensity. Harry had to admit that Snape’s eyes were beautiful. They were dark and intense, and he wondered what they would look like when the man was less controlled.

“Thank you”, he returned genuinely, knowing that it was giving the Potions Master extra work that he could likely do without, so close to the start of term.

“Professor Hermione Weasley has asked that you meet with her when you have time. I have informed her of your proposition, and she is eager to consider how you can work together. You will likely find her in her classroom”. Harry knew a dismissal when he heard one and deciding that he did not want to damage this newfound working relationship, he thanked him and left.

His stomach was churning. This would be the first conversation they would have in six years. He couldn’t believe it was so long. They’d been his family; he should have made some effort to at least let them know he was safe. He couldn’t imagine how hurt and scared he would be if they disappeared without a trace. Hermione’s door was open when he arrived, and he took a moment to study her. She was intently consulting a myriad of books and parchments that were sprawled across her desk. She might have been studying for her NEWTS, the actions were so familiar to him, but she was more refined now. Her childish looks were replaced with that of an elegant young woman. She looked up when he knocked and, even from here, he could see that her eyes ghosted across an array of emotions. He was surprised, however, when they softened slightly, and she motioned for him to come in.

“Hi”, she said gently. She smiled but there was an awkwardness about it, and he could see a faint flush rise up her neck.

He smiled back and returned the greeting, edging his way into the classroom. Her classroom was much warmer than Snape’s and was full of colour. It made him feel more relaxed and he reflected on just how ominous the Potions Master’s classroom was. It was uninviting and functional, and it made the guest feel on their guard throughout. Hermione’s classroom made him feel as if it was a place of intense learning but designed to welcome the students into her realm of knowledge. He could imagine that she would go out of her way to help her students, and he wondered if she gave too much of herself.

They both attempted to speak at the same time and there was a shared moment of amusement that lightened the mood. He motioned for her to begin and she placed her quill down before speaking. “I’m sorry that we didn’t welcome you properly”, she told him, her face portraying a genuine regret. “I hope that we can come to work well together?”, she queried. He felt his stomach drop at her words. She was making it clear that they she desired nothing more than for them to be colleagues. He hadn’t known what to expect but he’d hoped it would be more. He just hoped that with time they could find something more.

He was out his seat in a second when he heard a crash from outside her door. Wand out, he flew towards the corridor. “Harry?”, he heard behind him, but he didn’t respond. He edged into the corridor, but there was nothing in sight.

“What’s going on?”, Hermione asked, coming up behind him.

He shook his head, “What was that crash? I can’t see anything”.

“What crash, Harry?”, she asked gently. He turned to her and she gazed at him with confusion.

“Didn’t you hear it?”, he asked. She shook her head and looked out along the corridor as if she might miraculously see something he hadn’t.

She turned to gaze at him, “Are you sure you heard something?”. He was sure he had, but maybe he hadn’t. Maybe he’d mistaken the sound, or maybe he just had better hearing than she did.

He laughed self-depreciatingly, “I think I’m just a little jumpy and maybe still jetlagged. It’s been a rough couple of days”.

She looked a little guilty at that, but nodded, then smiled, “Well, as long as it’s not another basilisk you’re hearing”. They both laughed and, for a moment, there was a real connection between them. But it was gone soon after and she returned to her seat. It wasn’t long before they were deep into lesson planning. Hermione was just as eager as he remembered her to be, and when they finally departed, he felt lighter than he had for days. He knew it would take time, but he really hoped that they would be able to build some sort of relationship again.

During dinner that evening, both Ron and Hermione had acknowledged him with an hello, and even Snape had nodded in greeting, and he felt that maybe things weren’t going to be as bad as he’d originally feared. He found he had more energy that evening and he decided he would wander the castle, refamiliarizing himself with his home. He was a little lost in thought and he suddenly found himself down in the dungeons without realising it. It had never exactly been an area he had spent much time in, well unless he was investigating blond Slytherin’s. It wasn’t quite as dark and ominous as he remembered, though he couldn’t say it made him feel particularly comfortable.

He wasn’t even aware that there was anyone else here until he came face to face with Snape and Professor Carrington. Snape was pressed up against the wall, one arm pinned above his head. His head was bent slightly to the left, and long black hair cascaded down over one shoulder. The other side of his neck was exposed to the other Professor, who appeared to be kissing his way down it. He was taking his time, teasing the Potions Master, who submitted easily to the treatment. Snape’s eyes were closed, and Harry watched as his mouth opened to emit a silent huff of air. Harry couldn’t tear his eyes away as Carrington pushed his knee up between Snape’s legs, until he moaned almost imperceptibly with evident pleasure. Harry tried desperately to pull himself away but he was frozen. The scene was so raw, and he’d never imagined the other man could be so free as to allow himself to be manhandled in the middle of the corridor.

Before Harry had the chance to make a decision on how he could escape without being detected, Snape’s eyes opened. There was a hunger and intensity in the gaze that made Harry shiver, and then their eyes locked.

“Harry”, he said breathlessly, and that one word, said with such abandon, went straight to the pit of his stomach.

Carrington looked up in confusion, then followed Snape’s eyes. He pulled away immediately, and Snape sank down from the wall until they were all standing staring at each another.

“Please forgive us, Professor Potter”, Carrington stated formally, “It won’t happen again”.

Harry nodded, turning and walking away without another word, but he could feel the intensity of those eyes still burning into him as he left.


	4. Chapter 4

“The top down”, was a dynamic bar in the upmarket end of Wizarding London. Harry had not had the chance to visit it before, having been too young to understand his dynamic before leaving for Australia, but it wasn’t hard to find. It was on the main strip, surrounded by high class bars and restaurants. Luna had suggested it, as it would give them a chance to talk without being accosted by reporters, considering this was his first time outside the castle since he had returned. Whilst dynamic bars were open to all, it was not usually the first choice for those where at least one did not identify as ‘dynamic’. It was designed to provide a safe and relaxing space for people to meet and for couples to let their hair down. Those who caused difficulties were quickly ejected, and it was unlikely they would tolerate anyone hassling him. He had been glamoured on his way to the bar, but as he pushed the door open, he allowed it to melt away.

The bar was quite large, with a small dance floor on one side. There were black and silver booths throughout and a sleek looking bar the entire way down one wall, with servers in crisp uniforms. There was a relaxing yet upbeat feel to the bar, and the music was not too loud, allowing for conversation. He weaved his way thought the crowds and found her sitting alone at a booth near the back of the bar. He studied the young witch for a moment. Luna had grown into a stunningly beautiful woman. She held an ethereal quality, with her long blonde hair and pale skin, but her eyes held a strength to them that belied her Disney princess appearance. She exuded Dominance, and he observed more than a few appreciative stares from around the room. She seemed oblivious to it all, however, as she gazed unblinkingly into space.

“Luna”, he called at her gently to gain her attention before sliding into the seat. She slowly brought her eyes towards him, before a smile developed on her face. There was no other word that would describe the act, than develop. It took such a period of time that he could almost see every facial muscle move to rearrange itself into the warm smile that she now steered in his direction.

“Harry”, she breathed. “It’s so good to see you”.

He instantly felt a sense of relaxation in her presence which was unusual for him, and he was suddenly glad he had agreed to meet with her. He took his seat, and they exchanged pleasantries for a while before he went to fetch them some drinks.

He took a sip of his drink when he returned, and he watched as she became distracted by something seemingly invisible to his eye. “I’m sorry I didn’t reply to you more”, he stated, surprising even himself.

She drew herself away from whatever had her attention and shook her head, “You needed time”, she announced, “I did not expect you to write. I simply wanted you to know that you were not forgotten and had friends for when you returned”. It was such a matter of fact statement that he felt forgiven in an instant, a weight lifting from him that he had not realised was there. There were no more words needed, and he was grateful to her for understanding.

“So, how are things going with Remus?”, he asked, knowing from her letters that they had been a couple for about a year; it was not something he had ever imagined.

Her smile became brighter at the mention of his name. “It is wonderful”. There was no sense of shame to her words or attempt to downplay the strength of her feelings. He liked that about Luna; she was open and honest, and she meant what she said. “He is such a wonderful man and he makes me very happy”. Harry could almost feel the joy emanating from her.

“I am so glad you are happy”, he said truthfully. If anyone deserved some happiness in their life, it was this beautiful woman in front of him.

The young witch took a drink and then gazed ahead of her. Harry wasn’t truly sure if the conversation was over, however, the silence drifted on for such a long time that it brought with it an uncomfortable awkwardness. Deciding that he needed to find something else to discuss, he was just about to speak when she continued as if there had been no pause. “He treats me like a princess”, she commented, “He is sweet and obedient, and he keeps me organised. I am never very good at keeping things on track. Plans seem to drift out my brain like water. It is very disconcerting”, she breathed out.

He couldn’t help laughing, “Well, it’s a good thing you work so well then”.

She nodded, “And I give him what he needs, so we make each other happy”, she seemed to be caught in a memory for a moment, “He particularly likes my leather outfit”, she stated, almost to herself.

“Please tell me you have a picture”, he demanded. He was really starting to enjoy spending time with Luna. She was interesting and unpredictable, and she gave him permission to be himself, simply by being herself. He didn’t have to worry about what he said or did. She accepted him no matter what.

She pulled out a small blue case from her bag and placed it in front of her. She touched her wand to it and the picture she held in her mind appeared in front of them on the table. Despite the fact that the picture was a mere projection and could not be touched, it was so real that Harry could see every detail of the scene. He almost gasped out loud at the image. Gone was the ethereal beauty that sat in front of him and instead was a young woman that would make any submissive’s knees weak. The leather looked as if it was painted onto her, with a top that enhanced her cleavage and bared the pale skin of her stomach. Her hair was in a high severe ponytail, and her eyes were enhanced by black eyeliner. She wore heeled knee-high leather boots and she held a ruler in her hand. The picture moved to show her tapping the ruler against her other hand and she turned her head to gaze directly at the viewer, her dark eyes promising a night of vivid pain and pleasure The picture was angled so as it was looking up towards Luna, and he imagined that Remus had been on his knees before her when he took it.

“Dear God, Luna. I’m almost tempted to get on my knees for you”, he remarked, turning to her.

She gazed down at it critically, and then up at him, before smiling, “I do enjoy wearing that outfit”, she remarked, “It allows me to step into a different headspace, and not be caught up with so many other things”. She paused for a moment. “My brain is often too full. How are you feeling being back?”, she asked. The sudden subject change took him by surprise and he snorted in amusement.

Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, he looked out towards the rest of the bar. There were a few people dancing, but most were sitting at the booths or standing talking, and there was a small que at the bar. He could see a number of couples in the bar, with some individuals wearing collars and one or two kneeling on the floor. For the first time since he had returned, he thought about his ex.

“I’m not too bad”, he told her. “I didn’t really know what to expect when I came home. I’m struggling with my mood a little, but that’s nothing new. I always struggle with my mood”, he sighed.

She gazed at him shrewdly, a look that seemed alien to her face, “Why did you leave Australia?”.

He took a breath, “I broke up with my ex a few months ago. I hadn’t been happy in the relationship for a while and he was starting to hint at us getting married. He wouldn’t accept us being over. He followed me everywhere, to work, to the gym, and he would leave these long rambling messages on my phone, crying and begging me to take him back”. He didn’t know why he was opening up so much to Luna, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. “I couldn’t seem to get away from him, and I was feeling guilty. I was also starting to get lonely. I’d met him the year before when I moved for my job. I met him the first week and hadn’t had the chance to make any friends. Being that we were both wizards living in muggle Cairns, even the friends I did have, I couldn’t talk with them about my job or my history, so I felt disconnected from everyone. When Minerva offered me the job, I didn’t have anything keeping me there and I had a really big bloody desire to escape it all”, he admitted, feeling shame at running away again.

She moved forward and placed her hand on his, “Sometimes we need to move on physically to allow ourselves to move on psychologically”. She told him, “It does not make you weak to look for something better and for something that makes you happy. You were hurting no-one but yourself by staying there. You are home where you belong” she announced firmly, brooking no argument.

He regarded her with warmth as he placed his other hand on top of hers. He felt inexplicably better for having spoken to her, “Hopefully”, he admitted softly.

“Now what you need is your own leather outfit”, she stated, rising without delay. “Come, we are going shopping”. There was no room for him to disagree, and he laughed gently to himself as he followed her from the bar.

They spent almost two hours in the store, whilst she made him try on outfits until he found one that made him feel powerful and strong. Despite the fact he didn’t currently have a partner, he ended up leaving the store with a number of new items, and she left with a bright pink strap on that he was fairly sure would have Remus impaled on it before the night was through. As the night had worn on, their dominance had risen up and clashed in a furious twist of demands, that had them both heightened and aroused. It was something that only tended to happen between Dominants who were comfortable and safe in each other’s presence and trusted each other implicitly. He was surprised at just how quickly they had bonded. He liked that he had someone who understood him so instinctively, and who he could play Dominant games with, that would not harm their friendship.

Unfortunately, whilst she was going home to her partner, who would be able to burn off her needs, he was alone. But he needed an outlet and he needed to take matters in his own hands. He’d readied himself on the bed, and whilst he attempted to pull up the images he normally utilised, one new image kept assaulting his brain. He’d tried hard not to think of him since the night before, but in his heightened state of arousal he was finding that he couldn’t ignore it. The Potions Master had been beautiful in those few moments; undone and vulnerable.

He ghosted his hand over his cock, moaning at the warmth that surrounded him. It felt forbidden to think of the other man when touching himself and that sent a thrilling shiver down his body. His body was throbbing with heat. Lying naked on the bed with his cock in his hand, the cool air of the room brushing over his nipples as he fondled his most intimate parts; he felt exposed and dirty, and that served only to heighten his arousal.

The slick from the lubricant allowed him to tease himself for a few moments, barely touching his cock, allowing the heat alone to drive his arousal. He gasped and found himself shivering with pleasure. He was too aroused for having done so little, and he could feel the beads of sweat inching their way down his back.

He wanted to watch the other man fall apart, and he wanted to be the one to do it to him. He could only imagine the ways he could push him down and break him apart. He touched himself a little harder, bringing his other hand down to tease his balls. He wondered what Snape would look like on his knees, with his mouth around his cock. His breath was becoming ragged now as his he squeezed himself harder, his hand acting almost of its own volition. He gasped again and arched up, his feet pushing into the bed to steady himself as he began to lose control of his body. He found himself speeding up, unable to regulate his control in the face of such a forbidden desire. He could imagine what the elder man would look like all pretty and obedient on his knees, his eyes raising to stare up at him. They would be darkened with lust and he’d be moaning around his cock. Harry’s breath caught in his throat as he imagined him. Maybe he’d even have his hands tied; a picture of submissive beauty as Harry forced him to take everything he had, without allowing him any semblance of control. He began to pleasure himself harshly, lost in the images of the other man. 

It didn’t take long for his body to begin thrumming with the need to bring himself to completion. He tried to hold the edge, hold on to the crescendo until he was lost in the abyss. It was too overwhelming; too powerful, and he moaned out in a mixture of pleasure and pain as his body shivered with the intensity. His mind brought him to that one moment, when breathless and undone, Snape had uttered his name. He cried out as that one image pushed him over the edge, and his whole body exploded in pleasure. He was nearly sobbing with the intensity; the waves continuing to crash through him with a pleasure that bordered on punishment until there was nothing left and he lay limp, his body robbed of all energy.

He lay panting on the bed for a few moments, until he became aware of the cool air on his sweat covered body. His back was damp, and his front was covered in the evidence of his illicit thoughts.

“Well, that was unexpected”, he said in an amused voice, admitting his thoughts only to the empty room. In truth, his sudden desire was unexpected, and he wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. It was uncomfortable to think of Snape in a sexual way, and despite his most recent orgasm, he was disturbed at having an element of desire towards a man he could barely tolerate.

He’d been aware that Snape was gay, though he’d never really contemplated it. Considering the intense dislike between them, there had been nothing about Snape that he considered worth drawing his attention. He could admit the other man was attractive. He wasn’t classically or even immediately handsome, but there was something about him, that the more you studied him, the more pleasing his looks became. It was as if his contours didn’t make sense at first, but over time you wouldn’t wish for them to be anything else. But that didn’t make up for the man’s demeanour, and any physical attraction was wiped out by his harsh attitude. He’d probably have simply pushed last night’s encounter out of his mind and chalked it up to an awkward memory if it hadn’t been for the intense submissive vibe the Potions Master had exuded during it. Harry had been too young to really understand his dominance when he was at school with the other man, and he’d been too distracted since he returned to even consider it. Harry had explored his dominance during his time in Australia, and he was fairly settled in his own dynamic, though he was still young and had a lot of exploring to do. He was, therefore, usually pretty good at identifying submissive partners, and to have completely missed it was something of a shock.

He really didn’t want to have any kind of attraction to the elder wizard, but it seemed his body was disagreeing with him. He consoled himself that it would likely be a short bout of lust that would disappear as soon as he had another interaction with the difficult Professor. Thankfully, it didn’t appear to be Snape he was attracted to, but his submission, otherwise he’d probably have been quite jealous of the encounter the previous evening. Interestingly, he hadn’t picked up any gay or Dominant vibes from Carrington, though he guessed that he hadn’t really spent enough time in the man’s company to make any real assessment of it. It would be interesting to watch the interaction between the two, now that he knew about them.

The next few days went by fairly quickly. He had been busy with lesson planning, but Snape, Ron and Hermione continued to occupy a fair portion of his thoughts. Neither Snape nor he had mentioned the encounter in the Slytherin corridor, though there had been a pervasive awkwardness between them since that time. Harry’s awkwardness was multiplied, knowing he had masturbated to thoughts of him, and it felt even more forbidden in daylight with the physical presence of the man. It took everything he had not to blush whenever he thought of it. He continued to discreetly observe the interactions between Snape and Carrington. They were friendly, that much was obvious, but there was no real strength of relationship that he could see. They didn’t turn their bodies towards each other or seek each other out across the room. There were no discreet glances or sly smiles that laid bare a hidden intimate relationship. There was an easiness between them that belied any hidden sexual tension. Overall, it confused him, and he wondered what kind of relationship the two men actually had.

He still hadn’t had a chance to speak to Ron, and he knew that a part of him was now avoiding the encounter. The initial conversation now seemed such a monumental task that it felt overwhelming. But he’d met Hermione once more and she seemed to be thawing to him. He was trying to keep himself protected from everyone around him, but she seemed to have a way of melting parts of him and he was struggling to remain as detached as he would like.

Before he really had a chance to feel ready, it was suddenly the day the students were returning. The entire staff team had congregated for a pre-term meeting, and there was an excited anticipation in the air. Harry hadn’t felt this alive in a long time. But it hit him that now he was a real Professor. He was nervous and struggling with imposter syndrome. What if he was useless? What if he couldn’t engage with the students? What if they didn’t respect him? He wasn’t confident in his own abilities, no matter that he had spent all of the last few days preparing. The fears weren’t enough, however, to diminish the eagerness which was igniting his body, leaving him restless and energised.

“Good afternoon all”, Minerva addressed them, holding up her hands for silence. The chatter came to a stop almost immediately. The headmistress held them all in her authority with a graceful effortlessness. She had always been that way to him, and he wondered what it was about her that held such a commanding presence. He tried to study her movements whilst she spoke, hoping he could utilise it to help him in his own teaching. She always stood tall, as if she held a respect for herself that immediately demanded the same from whomever she was talking to. She also had a manner as if she could see all and that nothing you did was outwith her notice. It made you attentive to her every move, in a way that was subtle and non-threatening. She seemed to hold you in her command with such an aura of certainty and safety, and he suspected that was what made her so effective as a Headmistress.

“For most of you, this will be hold hat”, she smirked, and there were quiet chuckles throughout the room. “So bear with me as I bore you all with the practicalities. As with any other year, the children will arrive in the early evening. Those who are to be sorted will this year be greeted by Professor Hermione Weasley and Professor Sprout”. She gestured to the two Professors and he watched as Hermione smiled in evident delight to be so entrusted with the task of ushering the children into new depths of knowledge. He loved seeing her so happy, and it spread in him a nostalgic warmth for the girl he had once known.

“Once the meal is over”, the Headmistress continued, “the four heads of houses will escort the newly sorted children to their respective common rooms. That is Professor Hermione Weasley for Gryffindor, Professor Sprout for Hufflepuff, Professor Crane for Slytherin and Professor Likehart for Ravenclaw”. Snape was no longer head of Slytherin due to having been replaced by Victoria Crane during those four years he had been absent from the post. Professor Likehart was the deputy headmaster. Harry hadn’t been particularly impressed with him during their dealings. He was a little too controlling and unapproachable, and he consistently gave Harry the feeling that he was doing something wrong. This seemed to be the general consensus from the staff when he had brought up this feeling with a few others, and it was generally accepted that, despite his demeanour, he was quite lazy when it came to his own role. 

“Now”, she exclaimed, after a few more issues had been clarified, “Are there any questions or concerns that anyone would like to address before we begin final preparations?”.

“Is there anything else that you would like us to do to help, Headmistress?”, Hermione asked. Her eagerness was no longer irritating, instead it had an infectious quality that ran around the room and all eyes turned impatiently to await Minerva’s answer.

“Please miss, pick me miss, here’s an apple miss”, he heard muttered from behind him, and a number in the room laughed. He was furious that someone would think it acceptable to rob her of the joy she was experiencing. He was just preparing himself to glare angrily at the speaker when he heard her giggle.

“Severus!”, she exclaimed in mock protest, as she turned and playfully slapped him on the leg. He watched as the Potions Master smirked wickedly, and he saw Ron trying hard to cover up his amusement. She turned back to face the Headmistress, and he was surprised to see that she looked a little more relaxed than she had a moment before.

Minerva smiled indulgently at her before turning her own wicked eyes towards Snape, “I think I may have just found a volunteer for our first three duelling classes. Thank you very much, Professor Snape, for the kind and generous offer of your time”, she returned, her voice dripping sarcastic sweetness. Again, the room laughed, and Harry turned to observe the man in question. Snape narrowed dangerous eyes at the Headmistress and huffed in annoyance, though he did not retaliate.

Hermione leaned in towards him, and mumbled “Serves you right”, though she belied the statement by placing a hand comfortingly on his arm. The Potion’s Master didn’t try to pull away, settling instead for sneering. Harry couldn’t seem to stop himself observing their interactions, and he found this afternoon no different. He still couldn’t fathom how they had transitioned from detesting each other to this easy interaction. He didn’t know what had pushed them to overcome the barriers and for Snape to tolerate them so much, considering that Snape still seemed so intent on disliking him and treating him as if he was an insolent child.

As the meeting ended, Hermione hooked an arm through Snape’s and they wandered off towards the great hall where everyone was meeting for a light snack to hold them through the sorting. Harry began to follow, until he became aware of a presence beside him.

“How are you feeling about your first day?”. 

He turned, and his stomach fluttered nervously to see Ron falling into step beside him.“Ok, I think. Excited, nervous, all of the above”, he deadpanned. Ron laughed easily, and for a moment, walking through the corridors of Hogwarts, it felt as if no time had passed at all.

“I know what you mean, though I have to say you look a lot calmer and more collected than I did”, he smirked, “I felt like such a novice, considering I was starting with a woman who knows everything”, he rolled his eyes good naturedly, “and a Master of Potions. I don’t think my nerves let up for at least a month”.

Harry laughed, “Of all the things I imagined you doing as a child, Professor of Transfigurations would not have been my first or even my hundredth guess. How did that come about?”. Ron’s lips seemed to purse at the mention of their past, but he let it slide, and Harry realised he needed to be a little more careful in his approach, despite the ease of their interaction. He wondered if they would ever get over the hurdle. Both Hermione and Ron seemed intent on ignoring those missing years, and he didn’t know how they could develop any kind of real relationship simply be pretending it never happened.

“Hermione and I went to college for a year”, he admitted, “We needed to sit our NEWTS and figure out what we wanted to do. College was a really different experience to school. There was an acknowledgement that you were an adult and an expectation that you wanted to be there. If you didn’t do the work, you just didn’t pass. There was no one there hounding you for homework or giving detention if you didn’t turn up. I had responsibilities and I wanted to make my family proud. Turns out, when I applied myself, my forte was in Transfiguration and creative spell development. I ended up working with my brother’s for a little while developing new items for the shop, before I was offered the post here”. He suddenly paused and laughed self-depreciatingly, “Wow, shall I just give you my entire life story in one sitting?”. He felt himself warming easily to the other man. There was a maturity and sense of personal pride that had been missing when he was a child. He liked seeing Ron so comfortable with himself.

“I did the same in Australia”, he admitted, “I sat the equivalent of the NEWTS in a school near Melbourne”, he told him. Ron nodded, but did not ask any further. He sighed internally and decided to change the subject. “So, what’s your animagus form?”, he asked, genuinely interested in the answer.

“Oh, it’s really cool”, he replied, suddenly imitating the excitable boy Harry remembered him to be. “I’m a bloody panther. Can you believe it?”, he asked rhetorically, “I never thought I’d get to be something so amazing”.

Harry laughed, genuinely happy for the other man, “Maybe you can teach me one day? I never really had the chance to learn”.

The other man smiled, but there was suddenly a guardedness in his eyes, “Sure”. It was intensely awkward and he didn’t really know where to go from here. They walked the rest of the way in silence, with Harry desperately trying to think of something to say to lighten the mood. But before he could regroup, they were in the Great Hall. “Well, see you later, Harry. Looks like we are at opposite ends”. Ron walked off, taking his seat next to his wife, who was sitting at the other side of the deputy headmaster. He was to be seated between Professor Victoria Crane and Snape. It felt as if the world was punishing him for some reason, but he knew he was simply occupying the seat of his previous incarnation.

He sat, and the Potion’s Master nodded to him, before turning to talk to Carrington, who was sat on his other side. Professor Crane chatted nervously as they ate and waited for the children to arrive. He went off to talk to Hagrid for a while and then returned to his seat when they heard the carriages drawing up to the school. 'Well, this is it', he thought as he mentally prepared himself.

The older years burst into the hall in a sudden chaos of noise. Harry’s head hurt at the sheer volume of it. They laughed and chatted and shouted to each other across the hall whilst seats banged as the children threw themselves onto them at their respective tables. Harry turned to Victoria and she laughed good naturedly as he commented on it. He turned back, however, as the noise began to die down, and he realised that most of the children were now looking to him and nudging their friends, who in turn swivelled their beady eyes towards him. He’d prepared himself for this, but it was still overwhelming. He just had to remind himself that it would be different now. He’d lived through it as a child, but now he had the added benefit of being a Professor. It was awkward, however, as the hall came to an almost silent standstill as every eye fell upon him.

“Is there something I can help you with?”, Snape asked the room. He didn’t raise his voice but there was no mistaking the deadliness of his tone. He watched as many in the room flushed and all eyes turned away. He was strangely grateful to the other man, and he turned to thank him, but Snape was again in conversation with his lover.

The chatter grew again, but he didn’t fail to note the subtle glances often directed towards him. He ignored them, however, and concentrated on smiling warmly at the now terrified faces of the new 1st years as they made their way into the room. Hermione brought them towards the sorting hat and he watched as she gently pointed out things about the hall and worked to calm their nerves. She was a natural with children and he was sure she would make a great mother one day. The children looked so small and full of wonder as they gazed at the ceiling and the floating candles. Everyone settled, and the room took on a deep silence as the sorting hat began;

_“A lang lang time agaw_

_When a wis jist a wain_

_Four braw auld fowk wi pointed nebs_

_Made thur claim tae fame”_

“No, no, none of that”, Minerva announced standing immediately, as the room as one burst into laughter. She was obviously trying hard not to laugh, which only sent the room into further hilarity. “Thank you for this nod to my Scottish heritage, but if you don’t mind can we have the song has intended”, she ordered in a voice that allowed for no disagreement, before seating herself again. The sorting hat sighed aloud, but nodded in acquiescence and then when the room was again calm, he began again in a more traditional manner.

He was beginning to drift off into thought as the sorting hat droned on, when he caught sight of her at the Ravenclaw table. He sat bolt upright and Professor Crane turned to gaze at him curiously. “No, it couldn’t be”. He watched her as she turned to talk to a friend and it was definitely her. It was unmistakeable. Nausea ran up into his throat. She was dead. How could she possibly be here? He ran his hand over his eyes as if trying to will away the mirage and then turned back to her. But it wasn’t her. She didn’t even look remotely like her. He felt a rush of fear through his body. What the hell was going on?


End file.
